


You're As Important to Me As I Am To You

by NelindeA



Series: Fragments [7]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Also my existential crisis when I wrote this, Dan existential crisis, Gen, Interactive Interactive Introverts, References to Depression, all of the fluff, platonic phan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 14:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17726855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NelindeA/pseuds/NelindeA
Summary: Dan has an existential crisis before an Interactive Introverts performance, but as always, Phil is there to pull him out of it.





	You're As Important to Me As I Am To You

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first Dan and Phil fanfic I ever wrote, back in September, when Dan and Phil were one week away from finishing their tour and I suddenly started to freak out for their future, so I wrote this to appease myself. Of course that's not helping NOW, now that the future I wrote about here is coming to pass, so I may write an updated one to help my sanity.
> 
> Also, the reason I keep writing about Interactive Introverts is because that was the time I found them. I didn't start watching these two until December 2017, so when Dan posted that tweet that said "Thanks for everyone who supported us during the Interactive Introverts era" I'm like: That was MY era. So even though I've since seen every video, every photo, and probably everything they've ever been in that's on YouTube, I like 2018 Dan and Phil the best because that was my first year with them. 
> 
> Okay, that's all!

Phil walked into the dressing room to see Dan curled up in front of the sofa, arms hugging his knees and his head buried in them. That was never a good sign. Especially since they were literally about to go onstage in less than an hour. He could already hear the dulled rumble of the audience filing into the auditorium.

But of course Dan knew that, too, so Phil simply sat down next to him. “Hey,” he said quietly. 

Dan lifted his head and leaned his cheek on his knees, so that he was facing Phil. “Hi,” he whispered, and Phil could now see that his cheeks were wet. Oh, this was real bad. Dan didn’t just spontaneously cry unless something was really wrong. His first day of University. Subsequently dropping out of University. That week in March. To name a few times.  
“Existential crisis?” Phil asked, and Dan gave a short laugh.

“How could you tell?” he asked. “I’m not lying face down on the floor.”

“Because that’s not your real position for existential crises, and you know it and I know it,” Phil replied. “You wouldn’t have shared it with the Internet if it was.”

Dan cast his eyes down and lowered his head just enough so that his chin was hiding behind his arm. “I’m gonna miss the tour,” he whispered.

“That’s what this is about?” Phil asked. “Dan, we’ve still got at least one more week to perform it.”

“One more week!” Dan cried. “What happened to five months? Where did it go, Phil, how could it possibly be over already?? I mean I’m physically exhausted and I’m not sure I remember what my bedroom looks like and I seriously need to make a new video, but, I feel like I’m just getting used to this show…I can’t believe I’m losing it already.” 

“I know,” Phil said slowly. “But, we did go through this on our last tour, Dan, and you weren’t freaking out so much then. It’s not really about the show, right? You’re scared because time’s going so fast and one day you’re going to wake up and find that you’re 80 and you’re hurtling towards death?”

Dan didn’t say anything for a long time, and finally Phil had to crane his neck around so he could look into his friends’ eyes, which were still avoiding him. “Dan?”

Dan gave a long sigh and lifted his head, relaxing his arms so that they were only loosely clasped about his knees. “It’s not really about the show,” he agreed. “And it’s not exactly about death, either, because I’ve spent a lot of time pondering that thought, and it wouldn’t be enough to make me question everything now.” Another long pause, one that Phil almost considered breaking because he wasn’t sure Dan would continue. But then Dan said something that Phil wasn’t expecting.

“Do you ever think about what we’re going to do after YouTube?”

Phil blinked. “Sorry,” he said. “After…?”

Dan looked sideways at him. “Come on,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about that.” 

“I…” Phil said slowly. “I don’t like…to think about sad things. You know that, Dan.”

Dan nodded. “So,” he said. “You agree it would be sad.”

“I can’t imagine a life without YouTube,” Phil said. 

“I know,” Dan said. “And I barely can. We both started almost immediately after we became adults; before that there was just the blur of childhood and hormones and high school. I know in the past I’ve had fears about what I would do if it didn’t work out…especially when I ditched the law degree, you know. But, practically speaking, we can’t do it the rest of our lives.”

“Why not?” Phil demanded. 

“Because,” Dan sighed. “We’re inevitably going to get sick of it, first of all. Me before you, more than likely, because let’s face it, I’m getting sick of and changing things about myself all the time. And second of all we’re going to become obsolete at some point. We don’t help ourselves by not uploading regularly, and again, this is more me than you, but we’re lucky that we have a very loyal fanbase who will still be there whenever we upload. But that won’t always be true. And third of all…we can’t be children forever. We’re going to get old. Not even that—we’re going to get middle-aged. There’ll come a time where saving beans from getting hit by trains will feel silly, or the lives of Monsters in the Underground won’t be important, or throwing turtle shells at each other while speeding towards the finish line will feel like a waste of time.” Another pause, but this one was shorter before he said, “And then there’s our relationship.”

“Our relationship,” Phil repeated.

“Ten years and we haven’t fallen out yet," Dan swallowed. “We put that line in the show because it occurred to us as we were writing it.”

“I know…”

“That means we have no practice in dealing with conflict, Phil, that means one little fight and we’ll never speak to each other again!”

“That is not what that means.”

"But YouTube has what’s kept us connected all these years,” Dan protested. “It’s given us everything in common; it’s made us closer than I could have ever thought I’d thought I’d become with a person. But, Phil, when we wake up and realize we’re 80…are we still going to be living alone together? Would we still be happy if we were? We always wanted families, both of us have wanted that, and one day we’re going to have to go and get them, and…”

Phil spotted the tears brimming up in Dan’s eyes again just before Dan lifted his hands to cover his face. But he didn’t make any noise, he just stayed perfectly still for several minutes until he took a deep breath and lowered his hands. 

“I’m having an existential crisis because I’m realizing everything has an end,” he said. “And I don’t just mean death, because again, I’ve thought long and hard on that subject. But, we had five months, and they were amazing, and now they’re gone. It’s like when you have a pizza, or an ice cream, but on a larger scale, you know? You have this amazing food that you’re incredibly excited to eat, but an hour later, it’s gone. You had it, but now you don’t. We had these five months, and now we don’t. We’ve had ten years together, but now we…” His voice broke in the last few words, and he lowered his head again and began sobbing, suppressing it as much as he could, but that only made his body shake even harder. 

Dan’s existential crises always scared Phil, because then he started thinking about things that he’d been perfectly happy not thinking about. He never told Dan that, though; and every time Dan came to him with his worries about existence, Phil would completely put aside his own worries and talk Dan out of it as much as he could. But, again, there were very few instances in those ten years that Dan had broken down this much, and Phil had found that there was really only one way to comfort him when that happened.   
Phil laid his hands on his friends’ shoulders and gently pulled him into him. Dan offered no resistance and leaned into his chest, and when he did Phil put his arms around him and held him as tightly as he could. Dan never moved his hands away from his face, but Phil felt him go completely limp in his arms and knew that it was working, however little.   
Dan put on a brave face for Phil too, most of the time. Phil had a lot of irrational worries and superstitions that Dan would just roll his eyes at and poke so many holes in that it helped Phil overcome them. Dan was the one with the cool head, the voice of reason, who always knew what he was doing. He was the mature one of the two, and all their friends and their entire fanbase knew it. Which was why when he crumbled, Phil was more than ready to let him not have to be the adult. 

He knew Dan could have gone on crying for however long, but Dan was clearly aware that he still did need to perform a show in a little less than half an hour, and he was trying to regain control. When he was most of the way there, enough where Phil hoped he’d be able to listen, he finally spoke. 

“I don’t know what you saw in me when you found my channel,” Phil said. “I don’t know what it was about me that you wanted to befriend so much that you pestered me until I agreed to follow you back. But I know what I saw in you, Daniel. You appealed to me so much because you needed me. I didn’t think that at first—I figured you were a fan who thought it would be cool to have an Internet friend. But when we met I knew you were starving for something, and I could give it to you. There was a piece of your childhood that was lacking, and I could fulfill it. And that made me happy, Dan, it gave me a purpose, like whatever else I did in life, it wouldn’t be a total waste because I could be a pillar of stability in a world that otherwise didn’t always make sense to you. And…yeah, it sounds cheesy and I probably shouldn’t have made this speech an hour after watching The Crown, but the point is, however old that initial purpose was, I still have it. You’re a different person than who you were, and so am I, and obviously our friendship has completely evolved since then, but I’m still here, Dan. I do hope that we’ll go have wives and children someday, but that doesn’t mean I won’t still be here, for as long as you need me. Because ten years of no fighting doesn’t mean we’re a time bomb waiting to go off. We’re a…a bodybuilder whose been working out this whole time with no injuries that ever set him back!”

Dan had calmed down completely by now, though he was still breathing very heavily, but he did let out the tiniest laugh when Phil had finished. “That’s the stupidest analogy I’ve ever heard,” he murmured.

Phil chuckled as well, and, while still leaning into him, Dan’s right arm came over Phil’s and pressed it, while his left hand slowly strayed to the cuff of Phil’s hoodie, which Phil had put on because some maniac had decided to turn on the air con as high as it would go. Dan began picking at the fabric and worrying it between his fingers without saying anything, but Phil knew he was thinking about what he’d said. 

After a moment or two of this silence, there was a knock on the door, and Phil felt Dan instantly tense up before relaxing again. Dan reluctantly pushed himself up and leaned against the sofa again, and Phil sighed as he got up to answer the door. “Ten minutes,” the stage hand said, before immediately walking away. Phil called his thanks to him, then slowly closed the door and turned back to Dan.

Dan was now sitting cross-legged, hands in his lap, eyes cast down, but he looked up when Phil walked over to him again. “What I saw in you was the friendliest, kindest, most innocent person that wasn’t from a movie,” he said. “I didn’t know people like that existed in real life. You literally reminded me of Winnie-the-Pooh, you adorable idiot.”  
Phil was not expecting a lightning bolt to go plunging through his heart at those words, but it did, and he knew it was because in 2009 when Dan was thinking that, it was probably one of the highest compliments he could have given. 

Phil absolutely hated the sensation of tears falling down his face, and he knew if one more word was said between them that’s exactly what would happen, so he just smiled instead. And Dan smiled back, his dimple showing as it always did, which made Phil feel like he’d done his job. 

“You ready to do the show in ten minutes?” Phil asked.

Dan nodded and stood up. “While we still have it.”

“You’ll have to get your makeup redone,” Phil said.

“Great,” Dan said. “My favorite thing in the world.”

He began heading towards the door, but stopped when he was passing Phil, and turned to him. “I did need you,” he said. “And I don’t know how you picked up on that, but you literally kept—and keep—my head above water when I didn’t even realize that’s what I needed. So…thanks for that. And for putting up with me for ten years.”

“Yeah, well.” Phil shrugged. “I need you too, you know? Sometimes I think I’d float off into the clouds if you didn’t hold on tight to keep me grounded…another weird analogy, but I think my earlier videos back me up on that.” 

Dan laughed, a genuine laugh now, and made his way towards the door again. 

“And Dan?” Phil called. 

Dan turned expectantly, and Phil ran his fingers through his hair as he thought of how to say what he was thinking. “You lose more time by worrying about something,” he said slowly. “If we do have a limited number of days left living together as YouTubers, then just enjoy every second of it, because if you spend it all dreading the day it ends, then the end might as well already be here.”

Dan looked at him with a mixture of shock and affection and joy. But then he just smiled, and nodded. “I’ll see you in ten minutes,” he said. “You adorable…sagacious idiot.”  
“I’ll be here,” Phil smiled, adding, once the door was closed, “I’ll always be here for you, Dan Howell.”


End file.
